Throughout The Years
by TolkienScribe
Summary: He was the son of Earendil and Elwing, the foster-son of Maglor, the Lord of the Last Homely House, the Herald of Gil-Galad, the Ring-Bearer. But what was his life, really? A brief glimpse. Complete. One-shot. Please read and review. :)


**Author's Note:**

**Disclaimer: **Do not own LOTR.

All my stories are interconnected but there is usually no need to read one to understand the other. But my one-shot "Celeborn at a Glance" will help along in understanding what is going on.

**This is NOT romance. Kindly respect this viewpoint.**

**Flames not appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcome.**

**Enjoy! :)**

**~S~**

**A Loving Family**

His mother was always a comfort. He remembered her wearing plain clothes as she worked with the other she-elves for the day. And in the evening she would bathe, perfume herself, and wear the fashionable clothes befitting her status as she waited for her husband. He and Elros both were given a bath and dressed as well.

He remembered sitting in her lap and listening to her recount tales of Doriath and her brothers, after which she would fall silent and stare into the fire as she remembered memories of her childhood. He could barely recall her face years and years later, but he did remember her comforting voice and he knew her hum lullabies in his ear and twin brother's until they both fell asleep in her arms.

His father was distant, driven for the greater cause and Elrond could not recall much of his father, save perhaps his tall height and broad-shoulders that had often carried him when his father was in a playful mood. He remembered that his father was fiercely protective of them, not allowing many to come in contact with the twins, except for a trusted few. It was only many years later did Elrond find out why; his parents had the Silmaril in their keeping, which would call the wrath of the Feanorians upon them. And they had no wish to bring it upon their children.

But wrath always comes a-knocking.

**oOo**

**Pools of Blood**

He thought he was more exposed to grim, frightening scenes as a child than any other child living a normal life. Then again, his life was anything but normal. Born to a she-elf of Thingol's blood and a half-elven prince, he had royal blood in his veins the same as that of his twin brother.

He remembered that he had been asleep when it had started. Screams echoed from the open windows that let in the fresh, salty air from the sea. Then came the strong stench of smoke, and Elros had hurried to the window to see what has happened. Elrond had followed him. They looked out, which was perhaps the greatest mistake they had done at the moment.

They saw fierce warriors in well-worn armor, killing relentlessly left and right without mercy or remorse. Blood spattered everywhere, falling on their clothes and on the steps. Bodies were thrown or kicked to the sides with brute force, uncaring that they were living once. Among them were some that the twins had known; the sword-master, for example, who was trying to protect his wife, but instead the intruders had slit his throat and gutted his wife. Elrond remembered screaming at the sight and scrambling down from the window. Elros stood in shock, eyes fixed at the scene.

The next events were a whirlwind, and Elrond could not recall much, except that their nurse and guardian grabbed them both and dragged them down from their rooms to the dining hall, where she hid them under the table. She told them (or ordered them to stay put) and she left. Years upon years had gone by and a more mature Elrond remembered she never did come back.

How long they hid, he did not remember. But they heard the howls of grief and anger and the fear that had taken hold of them. and they heard someone or some people enter their deserted dining room. A smash of the glass and the clatter of their plates made them both cling to one another in fright. They heard the sound of something heavy like a table smashing against the wall and Elros jumped at the voice, hitting his head against the table above him. He whimpered. Almost soon after, the table they hid under was thrown away and two swords came to rest inches away from their throats.

Elrond never took in the sight of his captors completely in the first glance; he was too busy hiding his face in his brother's clothes. He remembered Elros' violent trembling, and then the faint whistle of the swords moving away and sheathed.

He felt hands pull him and his brother. He lashed out, fighting against the hands that were not exactly gentle. He heard loud adult voices speaking in Quenya, though he did not truly understand his words.

He found himself pressed against wet, reddish armor that he later realized was blood when he had grown and looked back at his memories.

The two Noldorin were fierce and tall and he and his brother both used to shrink away from them. One was red-headed with many scars and a missing hand. The other was black-haired, not so tall but stolidly built. His eyes were turbulent gray, and alert.

The city around them was in fire and ruin when they were pulled out of their parents' home. And that was when he realized who captured them.

**oOo**

**Fire**

He was extremely tall, making his neck hurt whenever he looked up. But Elrond never liked to look up at him; he was too frightening and grim.

His hair was thick and heavy; falling in waves over his shoulders and not even leather bands or braids could tame, save if he wet his comb and then quickly use a leather band after combing his hair. The color was dark red, like the fire seen from shadow. But his were grey and grim. There was fire in his eyes, and they could seldom maintain a long eye contact.

As if his face was easy to look upon. He must have been handsome, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones and good-looking features. But his captivity left nonfading scars on him. There were razor-like scars on his cheeks, a rope-like scar extending beneath his chin down the neck. The lobes of his ears were mutilated. His voice was raspy and rough, making him shudder. Elrond often saw him rubbing his right shoulder, which rose a bit higher compared to the left.

But once he had lost his way around the fortress. It was winter, and the fortress was extremely cold and he was shivering. One room he found open, and he could feel its warmth. The door was open and he almost went in, but then recoiled.

Maedhros sat, facing the door, fingers clasped on his lap as he stared at the fire. Firelight cast a glow over his face, and he seemed thoughtful or perhaps a bit lonely. Then suddenly his eyes came over Elrond and he remembered that he trembled under the piercing gaze.

Maybe it was the fear emitting from the elfing, or his look of cold, but Maedhros suddenly softened. Without a word (for the Noldo knew how much the elflings ran from his voice), he walked briskly to the elfling, gathered him in his arms and took him to the fire, where Elrond was suddenly settled into the same chair Maedhros had been sitting on earlier. Then Maedhros placed his heavy cloak around the child, and after giving a hesitant pat on Elrond' head, retreated to his bed. He sat quietly, with a book open on his lap.

That was it, Elrond remembered. And though he and Elros were never close to Maedhros, he knew that the Noldo cared for them. He was more of a foster-uncle than a foster-father really. But he was fond of Maedhros. So he always remembered him as a foster-father.

**oOo**

**Family**

Killers and war-bringers, that what they were.

But to Elrond and Elros, they were family and they refused to refer to them otherwise.

The Noldorin were grim folk, or perhaps they were so because they had seen war for so long. But with the twins in their fortress, their faces would bear faintest hints of smiles and smirks at their games.

They were rough people, though Elrond later suspected that it only came from the harsh times they had faced and the war they had gone through. But their hands were gentle when they lifted the elflings off the ground to protect them from their wild hounds and they were welcoming folk when they wanted to stay warm against the hearth. Too often did Elrond remember sleeping against the side of some guard or caretaker, wrapped up in a cloak too large for him.

But the Oath was strong, and the fear that the lives of these innocent twins became fierce in the hearts of both Maglor and Maedhros. So they had set the twins to sleep when their drinks were full of draught, and carried them to Círdan's domain, leaving the children in a cave. So when Círdan's people came upon them, one was playing in the spring and the other cowered behind rocks.

And while he was treated hospitably along with his brother, he remembered those people with fire in their eyes and their gentle hands, though history remembered them as killers.

**oOo**

**First Glance**

The air was stifling, and he felt his body go tense as bowstring before shooting an arrow. His muscles were tightening in anticipation. It was quiet here, too quiet in fact. The sentries were stiff as well, eyes peering into the darkness.

He heard a soft footfall behind him and his instincts took over his body. His grip on his spear tightened (if it could get any tighter than it already was) and whipped it around. he lowered himself to the ground, the head of his spear pointing outward at the one who came up behind him.

She stood with a raised eyebrow at his reaction, completely relaxed.

"If I were an enemy," she said dryly. "I would not be coming from the camp now, would I?"

"Intruders sneak up from behind as well." Elrond said, his spear still pointing, his body still humming with tension and alertness.

"True," she said and spread her arms wide in a gesture to show she bore no weapons. She was dressed in dark blue gown with a golden belt on her waist. Her silver hair was loosely tied but her hair was coming out of the leather band, falling over her shoulders and back. Her eyes were calculating and the tilt of her head was proud. Just like her parents. "But I have no weaponry with me."

"You shouldn't be here." Elrond said, finally lowering his spear. The she-elf raised her chin proudly.

"I go where I want to, soldier."

Soldier, he fumed inwardly. He was no soldier! He was a noble, and a warrior!

"These are times of war, lady. You are not protected here."

"Oh I think I can protect myself well enough." She said, folding her hands in front of her. There was small smile playing around her lips, as if she was amused by him.

"Oh, can you?"

He felt insulted. He was the one wielding a weapon here. How can she protect herself?

So taken he was by her demeanor, in fact, that he became aware of the sudden feel of a sharp tip resting lightly on a collar bone. Where her slim knife had come from, he wondered. And then the irritation returned, when he realized he had missed the scabbard hanging from her belt. She held it with ease and there was laughter in her eyes. She knew well enough why he missed it.

"I believe I can." Though she said the words solemnly, there was barely suppressed humor in her tone. Then she moved the knife away in a simple arc and re-sheathed it.

"I should go back to camp." She said, turning away and calling over her shoulder. "try not to be too taken with your opponents the next time."

He muttered under his breath but did not realize her parents had met each other in almost the same pattern.

He married her after the War.

**oOo**

**Three Rings of Power**

"I do not want it." Elrond said flatly.

"I am giving it to you."

"Celembrimbor," Elrond said firmly, placing his hand on Celembrimbor's fist and pushed it away. "I do not want it."

He made to turn away but Celembrimbor grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled back. Elrond flashed him an irritated look.

"What part of my refusal do you not understand?"

"There is evil afoot." Celembrimbor said quietly. "There are people here who have evil intentions. And I cannot leave this ring unprotected."

Elrond narrowed his eyes at him.

"If you speak of Annatar-"

Celembrimbor looked nervously around him, as if the dark traitor was close by. Then his shifty eyes met Elrond's own.

"Please, I have to keep them safe."

"Nay," Elrond said, wrenching his arm out of Celembrimbor's grip. "Leave me be! I do not want this power! I do not want this responsibility!"

"But you must." Celembrimbor said quietly. "You have inherited your family's foresight. Tell me, Elrond, can you truly save your people without any help?"

Elrond swallowed. He had not spoken of his visions of the future to anyone.

"How come you know?"

"I have strong observance skills." Celembrimbor pulled Elrond's hand and pressed the ring on the open palm, the ruby facing him. "You will need it."

He looked down at it in distaste but Celembrimbor's eyes were the similar to Maglor's, full of keenness and wisdom. So he kept it.

Years upon years passed by and he had never been so thankful for that little object when Sauron was rising once again and the orcs stayed at bay with the power Elrond wielded. It was a gift and a burden, for the ring did take a toll on him, and he was target of Sauron as well. But when he saw his city full of life, the waters flowing and the forests green, it was almost worth it.

**oOo**

**Heartbroken**

He took an involuntary step back from the scout, unconsciously stepping on his own robes and then stumbling. He could feel Erestor's hands grab his arm to support him, but he was too stunned to speak or even comprehend anything.

His beloved wife…

He could feel Erestor help him rise, hear Glorfindel's furious shouts for a company to be brought quickly. There was a flurry of activity around him.

Months passed by, and they finally found Celebrían, broken and defeated. She would shrink from his own figure, as if he were an orc. And there was dullness in her eyes. She could barely walk and he grieved for her. The light hurt her eyes and he kept the curtains closed and the candles unlit for her.

And while she was at peace for being close to her family, she could not bear it any longer and she left to set sail.

He kept himself secluded to their-his rooms after that. His mind had grown blank and he was in anguish. His sons were out hunting orcs and he could not bring himself to stop them.

He felt the same as they did, after all.

Then days passed until he heard a subtle knock on his door before it opened and someone slipped inside. He was sitting listlessly against a wall and he felt the person sit beside him. He turned to find it none other than Legolas Greenleaf himself.

"My sons-" he said, his voice hoarse from a lack of use.

"I brought them back." Legolas replied.

"Why are you here?"

"I bring my father's condolences."

"Why are you here?"

Legolas sighed.

"I came to offer comfort, if you wish to receive it."

"What comfort shall I get after this?"

"That your sons are alive and well, your domain is safe, your daughter is with her grandparents and you will get to see your beloved wife again." Legolas replied. "Come back, Elrond, son of Ereandil. Your grief does not suit you."

Then without his bidding, Legolas got up and swung the curtains back, filling the room with light. The younger elf returned to his side.

"I know what it is like to leave behind a love." Legolas said. "But it will do neither you nor the ones around you if you fall into sorrow. Return to us, Elrond. You are not one to grieve. You are needed here."

"I cannot forget my wife-"

"I am not saying you should. But if you continue this, then you will lose her as well."

That was a start of his return to his duties.

**oOo**

**Freedom**

Pain.

He felt it sear right through him, and he dropped his sword. His vision blurred and he clutched his head as the sudden dizziness overtook him.

"Elrond!" Glorfindel's anxious voice cried. He felt him touch his back briefly, as if afraid not to hold him in case he lashed out. But all he could feel was the intense pain. And then he heard a crack.

The pain diminished but he felt exhausted. His vision returned. He was standing in the war chamber, where they had been making plans of last and final attack. Sauron's forces were being quite cocky, trying to penetrate Imladris' defenses. Now he felt the One Ring's shadow leave his ring. He felt his mind go easy.

His head throbbed violently. He got up and skidded across the floor, losing his balance. He felt Glorfindel's arms catch him by his arm guards and hold him upright. His vision was spinning. It was as if there was a deep burden on his mind and his heart. He heard a clear crack of something breaking.

Then suddenly it was gone. His vision cleared and the weight upon his heart and mind lifted. He looked up in wonder, and saw Glorfindel looking at him worriedly. Elrond look down at his hand.

There, on the first finger of his hand was his Ring of Power. Years and years of use and wear and it still had shown no dents or scratches. But the blue gem was cracked cleanly in two pieces, and it was dull and lifeless.

Glorfindel had let him go now and he leaned back gratefully on the cool wall behind him, closing his eyes. He was wearing his full armor but he felt light. He felt free.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

"Finally." He whispered, for he knew his Ring will only lose its power if the One Ring was destroyed. It has happened. Sauron was no more.

And he was free from responsibility.

oOo

**The Wedding of the Age**

No matter how many times Celebrían pressed him to remember what it had been like when he attended Arwen's wedding after he came to Valinor, he could not remember much of the details.

He remembered bits and pieces of it, but it was more as if he had seen a dream. But he would go down to the harbor and see the dwindling numbers of ships coming from Arda and he realized it was all so very true.

He did remember when he entered Arwen's rooms after she was ready. She wore a light purple dress with dark purple, long wide sleeves. Her hair was done in a complicated pattern, with pearls and crown of silver decorating it. She was shy, he remembered, but happy.

"Father," she had called him and he replied with a brittle smile.

"I love you and what your heart decides, but a part of me wishes this does not come to be."

"I am not Tinúviel." She replied firmly. But Elrond only gathered her in his arms and held her there.

She would age, he realized, holding her close. Her black hair would whiten, her skin would wrinkle, and she would wilt away, as his brother had done.

But the sun was shining brightly, and there was laughter wafting from the open windows.

He dispelled his dark thoughts for the moment.

oOo

**My Loyalty to My Foster-fathers**

Thingol furrowed his brow at his descendant, seeing the cool attitude of the younger elf.

"You seem displeased, Elrond." He said.

Elrond calmly cut through his venision and placed the morsel in his mouth, chewing it slowly. He caught his wife give him a warning glance, but he ignored it. Then he raised his eyes to see the king sitting at the head of the table. His silver hair was long and straight. There was no ornament on his head, save for a silver circlet.

"Am I, my lord?"

Melian's sigh was almost audible.

"Elrond-"

"Tell me." Elrond said, finally putting down his fork and knife. "What was it when you first set your eyes on the Silmaril?"

He felt Celebrían touch his hand lightly, silently chiding him not to ruin his time with his family.

"Was it the glow? Or the way it was crafted? Or were you curious of what it was that the Noldorin sought?"

"What are you implying, young one?"

There was rebuke in Thingol's words. His face was hardened.

"You look at the elves from a distance, who lived different lives and they might as well be strangers, but you label them as kinslayers, when you do not even realize what their stories were."

Thingol rose from his chair, shaking off Melian's touch on his wrist.

"They were killers, tyrants." Thingol said tightly. "They killed my people in winter in the dead of the night. My grandson lay dying and they turned my great-grandsons into the forest to starve!"

"If you had given them their Silmaril," Elrond said. "They would not have come after your people. Their Oath did not let them rest."

"You blame me for their actions?"

"I blame the decisions you have made when all of this could have been avoided." Elrond said. "But the Silmaril's beauty enchanted you, and you kept it. And the dwarves loved it as dearly as you did. And it brought your own demise. My beloved ancestor Tinúviel would have lived longer, but the Silmaril hastened her death, for it was not hers to keep. What other choice did the Noldorin have except to come after your people?"

"Are you justifying their actions? They were war-bringers and oath-breakers!"

"Whatever they may seem to you," Elrond commented with steel in his voice. "They were my guardians when my parents had left, my protectors from the storm when my kin was nowhere to be found, my family when I was orphaned."

"I was alive." Earendil chided quietly.

"And where were you?" Elrond said finally, turning towards his father. "Where had you been when we were with the Noldorin?"

"I was watching over you." Earendil said again, in the same quiet tone.

"Ah, from the heavens as you set sail across the skies. And you can neither offer me words of comfort or a fatherly gesture." Elrond said, bitterness in his tone. "Where were you when we were in Amon Ereb, under the care of those whom you blame to be killers? Where were you when my brother, your son, lay on his deathbed? Or when I marched out to war? Or when I had married and held my children soon after their births? Or when my wife was captured and tortured and watched her slip away? Alone, I stood in those grave hours. And where were you, father? Looking down from a place so far that none can reach it? Nay, my guardians at least took the time to wipe away tears off the face of a frightened child after a nightmare. I recall you were nowhere to be found then."

"My son-" Elwing interrupted, trying to bring back the peace between them. But Eraendil could not help but speak up as well.

"Your loyalty is to the kinslayers-" Eraendil started to say but Elrond immediately interrupted.

"Nay, father." Elrond said. "My loyalty is to my foster-fathers."

**oOo**

**Suprises**

After all these years, Elrond thought as he stared in disbelief. His mouth was slightly open in his shock though he could not think of closing it.

"Elrond?" The elf asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously with one hand, an action Elrond knew too well. But he could not seem to move or make a noise.

"Elrond?" The elf tried again, narrowing his eyes at him worriedly.

Elrond had wondered, tortured his mind by wondering. He spent years upon years in the defensive, protecting that one important piece of his history and defending it on every turn ever since he lived. He explored himself, sent others to explore when he could not. And every time the answer was the same; that there was no sign and clue. _And all this time!_

"Elrond, you are frightening me." The elf said finally, reaching forward and placing his hand on Elrond's head. That warmth, that certain pressure… it just proved how real it was. Elrond found he could move again.

"Do not take this the wrong way…" Elrond managed to say at last.

That was all the warning the other elf got. Elrond swung his fist at him, catching him in the jaw. It was not too strong but it was not a feeble blow either, and he ended up sprawled on the ground. Elrond immediately helped him up.

"I apologize." Elrond said, feeling a bit flustered. "That was completely instinctive. I could not help myself, Maglor."

Maglor chuckled, rubbing his injured jaw.

"That was no small blow." Maglor remarked.

"You have to admit," Elrond said, cautiously removing his hands, hovering close by just in case the other elf needed support. "You deserved it. For the love of everything good, Maglor, a message, a sign, anything that hinted you were alive-"

"I am here now." Maglor pointed out. Elrond lowered his arms. Maglor fondly rubbed the elf's head. "You seem so different now."

They embraced and Elrond breathed in, enjoying the comfort. There was a faint scent of paper that Elrond always knew as he breathed in deeply. Then he shifted his head, resting his chin on his foster-father's shoulder. His eyes suddenly widened.

"Maglor, there is a she-elf behind you and some other elves. Two of them are-"

"I know. They are my family."

Elrond broke away in shock, opening and closing his mouth. Then he punched Maglor again, this time harder. The Noldo was ready enough to catch himself from falling.

"You could have told me!" Elrond said furiously. "You could have sent something to tell me!"

"In my defense this was fairly recent." Maglor said, rubbing his jaw. There were rapidly forming bruises along it.

"How recent?" Elrond asked through gritted teeth, keeping a firm grip on his foster-father's arm.

"Somewhere in the beginning of… the Third Age, I think is what you call it. None of that." Maglor added sternly, grabbing Elrond's fist as he moved to punch him again. "You have had your move. I will not accept anymore."

He felt that pressure around his face, silently chiding him for even thinking to deliver another blow. That firm look on Maglor's face, that hand clasped around his fist just proved how real it all was.

"How?" Elrond managed. Satisfied that he would not be the victim of another hit, Maglor released his hand.

"We were offered a chance of redemption." Maglor said. "We took it."

"We?" Elrond asked. Maglor smiled and turned, gesturing towards the ship that bore him. Coming down the plank was an extremely tall elf, with heavy red hair. He was helping an elfling down the plank, who was very much afraid of falling in the water. Maedhros was murmuring softly, encouraging her to inch forward toward the safe platform. Elrond blinked.

"His daughter."

Now Maglor looked extremely wary.

"His granddaughter." He corrected.

"I am almost sorry I did not break your jaw." Elrond said, fury evident in his voice. "Two Ages, Maglor!"

There was that grin, free and wild. Then the breeze picked up, caressing Maglor's heavy black locks, making him look roguish. But there was freedom in his eyes and relief in his figure, an impression of how he would have looked if he had been free from the Oath.

"Ah, but those were such free two Ages." Maglor drawled, his hair blowing around him in the breeze. Elrond blinked. He never heard Maglor jest back in Amon Ereb. "I had no two pesky twins to annoy me."

"You had another two to replace my brother and I." Elrond said in the same dry tone, glancing pointedly at the two identical elves of his family lingering behind him, engrossed in their own conversation.

Maglor's grin faded a little. "Ah, well. They did do quite well to make do of your absence."

Then Maglor laughed. And Elrond could not help but give a grudging smile as well.

**~S~**

**Author's Note:**

I have been working on this one-shot for two months. It finally took shape, I believe. There are a lot of things that come from me.

For example, Legolas is older than Elrond's children though ffn stories usually show it reversed. I personally believe that the Noldorin were given a chance of redemption and they took it but they were not in Arda, but rather living far from Arda in unknown lands. I have its story thought out so I am not willing to give details.

On the archive, I could not decide to keep it Silmarillion or LOTR so I chose both since Elrond does appear in both.

On Maedhros and Maglor both being his foster-fathers. I know people will say that Elrond was raised by two men and he turned out fine, but first the two 'men' are fictional characters and were brothers ( emphasis on brothers). I think Maglor took a more active role since Tolkien mentioned only him. And suggesting this is kind of suggesting that the brothers had some sort of... intimacy between them that gives me the shudders. Some things are just a no-no for me and that is one of them. I do not think that Maedhros was more active in their lives because of his physique that would frighten any child.

Also, he does not hate Thingol or Ereandil or Melian or Elwing. He just had a bone to pick with them. What is done is done. I am only showing brief glimpses in his life, that may give an aspect as to who he is or rather, what he experienced.

And that's... pretty much it, I guess.

**Good? Bad? Please review!**


End file.
